Another Fine Mess
by SassyJ
Summary: Phil Hunter and Stuart Turner hate each other. They'd do anything to put the other down. Their constant competitiveness leads them straight into trouble... and something else...
1. Chapter 1

"Put your arms round him."

Phil hesitated, the very last thing he wanted was to be that close to his enemy.

From the scowl on his face, clearly Stuart felt the same way. But there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

There was a ladder. Way up somewhere above their heads they could see the sky. It was no help. Stuart had been forced to back up against the ladder. Then his hands had been cuffed behind his back, attaching him to the ladder.

The gun prodded Phil in the back. Reluctantly he stepped forward, hands grabbed his wrists and pulled him hard up against Stuart. Phil winced as the cuffs closed around his wrists, holding him there. A chain was produced, and then Phil and Stuart were inescapably bound to each other and the ladder.

Finally with a last padlock they were left.

They were cheek to cheek and chest to chest, Stuart's left knee was between Phil's knees and his cock was pressed against Phil's hip. _Shit... this IS EMBARRASSING_. Stu tried to ignore the physical closeness. This was Phil. This mess was Phil's fault.

"Another fine mess you've got us into." Stu growled irritably.

"Me." Phil snarled. "You little prick, if you had just concentrated on what we were doing, instead of trying to score points. We would have picked them up."

"Little prick?" Stu threw the taunt out there, he was pretty certain that was a charge that Phil couldn't bandy around. "It's not me that's little." Without thinking he used the half inch of space he'd been left with to angle his hip just that bit closer to Phil.

_Shit._ Phil felt the warmth of Stuart's body through every inch of him. And damn if it wasn't having the most unexpected effect. His cock stirred.

"This mess is entirely your fault." Phil growled, a little desperately, he couldn't possibly want that. This was Stuart. His mortal enemy. They hated each other. They were in constant competition.

He could feel Stuart Turner's smirk. Pleased to have got a physical reaction from Phil.

Phil tilted his head back a little so he could glare at Stuart. The brown eyes stared right back into Phil's, the knowing smirk on Stuart's face calculated to annoy. Phil clenched his fists in fury. Fully aware that something in the taunting face in front of him was tugged hard at his libido.

Stuart moved his hip again, and dark desire rocketed through Phil. Suddenly he wanted to wipe that smug smile off Stuart's face. His gaze dropped to Stuart's mouth, just begging to be kissed.

Phil homed in like a heat seeking missile.

His tongue flicked across Stuart's lower lip, and the younger man gasped, his lips parted and Phil's tongue sought entry, Stuart moaned and yielded. Their tongues clashed and Phil slowed the pace a little, enticing, eliciting moans of need from his enemy.

He could feel the heat from Stuart's cock pressing against his hip, acutely aware of his own state of need.

_NEED? SHIT?_

He jerked back, breaking the kiss.

For a long moment they stared at each other. And a truth stretched out between them. Such a slender thread, Phil knew he could snap it with his bare hands.

But he didn't want to. He bent his head, for a second he thought that Stuart would try to evade him, the dark eyes were cool, watchful and wary; as their lips touched for the second time, and Phil drew his tongue over Stuart's lower lip, his "enemy's" eyes fluttered closed and his lips parted, allowing Phil access.

Phil let go of the rivalry. One last defiant flicker and that spark went out as he gently sparred with his rival.

Giving and receiving Stu struggled with the last remnants of his hostility. He tried to summon up something as Phil's lips and tongue gently teased his, but it was gone, lost in the gentle passion of Phil's kiss. He could feel the warmth of Phil's cock pressed against his hip, aware of his own burgeoning erection.

Phil's cuffed hands sought Stu's, and awkwardly their fingers entwined. Phil gently pressed down, his knuckles brushing the curve of Stu's backside.

"I want you," Stu whispered against Phil's mouth. Phil tightened his forearms around his partner. His body ached for release.

"Inside me."

For a second Phil thought he was hearing things, Stu was submitting to him. Even ten minutes before, this would have been a cause for a cocky celebration, but now all Phil could think of was the gift that Stu was giving him.


	2. Chapter 2

Stuart Turner eased his chair away from his desk and stretched, his back muscles protesting at the sudden movement. Typing up the report had taken considerable ingenuity. _As much about leaving things out as putting things in there_.

They were trapped for three hours, about an hour in it had started to rain. At first they thought they were too deep down to be affected, that was before the filthy water began to cascade over their heads. Stu shivered at the memory, the majority of it had seemed to fall on his left shoulder and pouring down his back, within seconds he was drenched and shivering.

He'd half expected a cocky comeback from Phil, his arm and shoulder were aching from the cold, and the never-ending dribble of water on his shoulder was starting to have a strange effect on his nerves.

The gentle kiss pressed to his cheek surprised him. Suddenly he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His emotions were all over the place.

"Chinese Water Torture."

Stu looked up, "eh?"

"That's what it is... water dripped on you..." Phil shrugged as much as the chain around their upper bodies would allow. "I saw an experiment on Mythbusters once."

Stu raised an eyebrow. "Phil, has anyone ever told you, you watch too much television?"

The constant dripping on his arm was winding his nerves as tight as a drum.

Phil had ignored the sniping, and the tension in Stu's voice, and then he'd done his best to help.

Jo had found them at the point at which they were both reaching the limit of their endurance. They had been freed, thoroughly checked out by the FME despite their arguments that they were fine.

It was end of shift. They had lingered, and suddenly they were the only two left in the department.

They eyed each other warily and Stu stood waiting for the off-colour comment, where Phil would make the joke and they would go back to where they had been.

"Your place or mine?"

At first Stu thought he hadn't heard Phil right, he was still waiting for the joke; for a long moment he stared at his former rival and enemy.

"Mine. It's closer."

"Let's go then."

They moved off. Not speaking. Wondering what they were doing, what imperative was driving them.

They arrived at Stuart's flashy upmarket flat, and Phil checked out his surroundings as they rode up in the lift together. Time seemed to stretch out as Stu let them both in to the flat. He pushed the door closed.

For a few seconds they eyed each other.

_Oh god_. Impatiently, Phil broke the stand-off. He stepped forward and pushed Stu back against the wall, his hands closed around his rival's wrists as he pushed Stu's hands behind his back. His mouth crushed against Stu's.

"Fuck me." Stu whispered against Phil's mouth.

Phil's jacket hit the ground, as Stu yanked his shirt free of his suit trousers, Phil's hands were at Stu's belt and jeans' waistband as they nipped and tasted, stumbling their way to Stu's bedroom.

As Phil kicked his trousers off, he palmed the supplies from his pocket that he'd made a brief stop for on the way. He dropped across Stu's bed and grinned invitingly. Stu dropped his clothes on the floor next to the bed and flopped down next to him.

Phil processed the dull thud as Stu's clothes landed. Smiling he reached over and picked up Stu's hand cuffs. "Got the keys?" he swung them from his index finger.

"Of course."

Phil's arm yanked Stu closer, as their lips met again.

"Shower?" Stu mumbled between kisses.

Phil nodded, he did some of his best work in the shower.

They tangled beneath the warm spray, kissing, nipping and tasting. Phil picked up Stu's shower gel and squirted a generous dollop into his hand. "Let's see that shoulder."

"It's fine." But Stu turned round anyway, enjoying the sensations of the gentle massage on his left arm and shoulder. Barely noticing Phil's weight pressing him against the wall until the solid sounding click as the cuff closed around his left wrist. Phil trailed kisses down Stu's neck and right shoulder as he closed the second cuff around Stu's right wrist.

"Mine." He whispered.

"Yours..." Stu's voice was hoarse with need. Phil grasped his hips and pulled him back against Phil's erection.

Stu turned in Phil's arms. "Yours." He sank to his knees in front of Phil.

Phil looked down at his soon-to-be lover's dark head, the perfect lean, muscular body, hands cuffed behind his back, the apparently submissive posture. Then Stu looked up, the smile pure Mephistopholes, anything but submissive.

He leaned forward, and flicked the tip of his tongue over Phil's erection.

_JEEZ!_ Phil was uncertain whether he screamed it or it was just in his head. His hands buried themselves automatically in Stu's short black hair, as Stu's tongue continued its journey of exploration.

Phil's knees turned to jelly as Stu pressed a kiss to the underside of Phil's erect cock, trailing kisses up the length, and circling the head with his tongue.

They were both still soaked from the shower, but Phil couldn't wait, he wanted Stu right then. He tugged his partner to his feet... "Now" he gasped.

"Please."

"Please, what?" Phil's voice had developed a growl of its own.

"I want to feel you inside me."

# # # # # #

How they made it to the bed, Phil couldn't have said. Grabbing the lube, he gently worked some into Stu's tight, perfect, passage, gently working his fingers to prepare his lover. He reached out to the bedside table to fumble for the keys to the cuffs. Stu squirmed, "now... please..." he begged, and Phil forgot the cuffs, forgot any inhibitions he may have had, hauling Stuart back into his arms, Stu pushing back onto him.

They made love over and over, shedding the cuffs, turn and turn about, until they were exhausted.

Phil didn't want to let go, he curled into Stuart; Stu wrapped his arms around Phil and eased back onto the pillows, holding his lover close.

They cuddled and dozed, wrapped around each other, tangled up in the duvet, quietly relishing flesh against flesh.

"I'm not gay." Phil felt the sudden need to say it. He didn't want Stuart to get ideas.

"Well, I'm certainly not gay." Stuart's tone was carefully neutral. Phil glanced sideways and caught the flash of genuine hurt in Stu's dark eyes, before it was replaced by that watchful, wary and otherwise inscrutable look which Phil had started to recognise as Stuart's defence mechanism.

Before Stuart could put up the barriers between them again, Phil rolled, pressing his lover back into the pillows and the mattress. His lips claimed Stuart's as the younger man moaned his need and returned Phil's kiss with passion.

Phil settled down to the business of showing his lover how much he wanted him.


End file.
